


her heart on her sleeve

by n7punk



Series: Outside of the War - She-ra canon stories [29]
Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Adora being sappy as hell, Canon Compliant, F/F, Fluff, Post-Canon, Tattoos, body reclamation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:33:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28326873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/n7punk/pseuds/n7punk
Summary: After they get married, Adora requests permission to get a tattoo. Or rather, a specific tattoo.
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Series: Outside of the War - She-ra canon stories [29]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1793227
Comments: 46
Kudos: 563





	her heart on her sleeve

**Author's Note:**

> Their wedding is kind of covered over in [foundations](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28296318). This fic is set shortly after. Catra and Adora built a home near the edge of the Whispering Woods, but they still live part-time in the castle.  
> CW: mentions of weight changes (I have Thoughts on Catra being malnourished).

They are in an Alliance meeting. Adora should be paying attention to things _other_ than Catra, but in her defence Catra is the one speaking right now, standing at the head of the table beside Glimmer, reporting on _something_ Adora isn’t paying attention to. She is mostly ogling her wife and anyone who could tear their eyes away from Catra would be able to see that. She doesn’t know _why_ someone would look away, but she would be obvious if they, unlike her, managed it.

Catra has gotten a new _shipment_ of additions to her wardrobe. The clothes she got when she first came to Bright Moon don’t fit perfectly anymore, and it has been over a year anyway, so they made a trip to the tailors last week and picked out some new pieces for the both of them. Adora’s clothes still fit, but she is more willing to experiment with herself now, and so she got some additions as well.

Catra has gained a little weight in the two years since the war ended, finally catching up on a lifetime of intermittent malnutrition, softening around the edges. Once she was Second in the Horde, she was able to get all the rations she needed, but they were still _rations_ , and nothing compared to real food. Plus, Catra took up baking shortly after arriving in Bright Moon as a meditative activity, and she has kept it up in the kitchen of their home. Apparently baking isn’t _good_ for muscle definition.

Catra had been self-conscious when she first realized. She has since taken to gripping a handful of her thigh or the slight pudge below her waistline and uttering _take that, Shadow bitch_ when she catches sight of herself in the mirror and notices, but even the vindictive pleasure of being _comfortable_ isn’t enough to totally crush the doubt. Adora isn’t _just_ ogling Catra for her own pleasure – her wandering eye is also good for her wife’s self-esteem.

Right now her gaze is fixed on a _specific_ part of Catra, though. She is wearing a new pair of pants, showing off her fabulous thighs, and a shirt fastened with Adora’s pin – _her token_ – just below her chest. The golden pin is shining radiantly from the deep red of the top, matching the detailing on the shirt, but mostly Adora is admiring it for the _mark_.

They have both made fantastic progress on their jealousy, but they are always going to be possessive, and Adora _likes_ seeing her mark shining on Catra. She has Catra’s token too, She-ra’s mask a bold statement any time she has to – or just _chooses_ to – transform into her, but a part of Adora still wants a mark on her for when she is just Adora.

Not that Catra does not leave _plenty_ of marks on her skin, fang bruises a permanent fixture on Adora’s neck or her shoulders, even after two years together. Their sex life isn’t getting _calmer_ , and magicats are just mouthy regardless. Bow told Glimmer that fact when she had looked at Adora’s neck in exasperation the morning before a meeting and asked _really_? Apparently he looked it up early on because he was _concerned_. Adora never really thought about it, just luxuriating in the feeling of Catra’s lips and teeth against her. She loves the marks decorating her skin afterwards even more.

A thought occurs to her. A thought that has occurred to her before, several times in fact, but now it occurs to her for the first time it doesn’t have to be a _joke_. She does not have to have the thought and immediately discard it. She is allowed to do things, for herself or for Catra.

Adora bites on her bottom lip and resolves to think on it _knowing_ she is serious. She has been thinking about it in passing for long enough. She can wait a little longer.

\--

She cannot, it turns out, wait longer. Okay, yes, she does mull it over for a while, but the more she thinks about it the more inherently _right_ it feels. She catches herself watching the pin glint on whatever piece of her clothing Catra is wearing it on at the time. Today, Catra catches her looking, smiling wickedly and pulling her up to their bedroom. The rowdy sex is _fun_ , and she gets two new additions to the markings on her neck, but after cuddling together Adora finds herself unable to stay in the bed any longer.

She presses a kiss to Catra’s forehead, rising from the mattress and crossing over to the large mirror they use to get ready in the morning. Catra rolls over in the bed, watching her curiously as Adora stands before the mirror, naked and eyeing her body. Unlike her wife, she hasn’t put on weight from the war ending, but she was also never malnourished. Catra is still a healthy weight – Glimmer doesn’t even understand what she is insecure about it, even if she would never say something dismissive to Catra – but the fact is Catra grew up lean and scrawny her entire life, and suddenly having enough to _pinch_ is a shock to her eye.

“Adora, are you alright?” Catra calls softly, rising to sit up in their bed. Adora nods wordlessly, tilting her head and examining her reflection. She likes the marks on her neck – shit, she even likes the thin lines slashed across her nose and down the side of her jaw – but they aren’t quite scratching the itch she is feeling right now.

Terrifyingly, this isn’t just about Catra. It is also about _her_ , her body and her rules. She has managed to build a bit more muscle definition since the war, now the stress and lack of rest are no longer dragging her down. She likes that, she even likes her body, at least as much as she thinks she is capable of putting weight into it as an aesthetic feature and not a means to an end – a tool for a job – but the fact remains is that was all her body was to her for a very long time.

Catra slips up behind her in the mirror. Adora startles slightly, blinking at her in surprise as Catra wraps her arms around her waist, making eye contact as she drops a light kiss to her shoulder. Her fingers are already stroking over Adora’s hip in a slow, soothing motion.

“Talk to me, Adora,” she requests, softly. Adora pauses, dropping her vision to her own torso and then her upper arm, absently flexing her muscles and thinking it over. She needs to _decide_ – but she already has, really, she just doesn’t know how to say it. Catra’s arms around her waist tighten.

“Do you want She-ra right now? Just to be for a while?” Catra asks her, softly. Adora flushes and shakes her head. No, this isn’t about that. She can manipulate her form as She-ra, but she doesn’t think she can change her _skin colour_ , so while She-ra has let her explore herself in many ways, she doesn’t think this is one of them.

“I think I want to get a tattoo,” she admits, chewing on her bottom lip. It is hard to say it, but it feels like a weight off her shoulders. She knows a part of her is seeking permission, waiting for Catra to tell her it is okay. She has made a lot of progress, but sometimes she still needs reinforcement, comfort in her decision and the knowledge that she is not disappointing the person most important to her.

Catra blinks in surprise, glancing down along Adora’s reflection before meeting her eyes again.

“Then get a tattoo, Adora. You don’t need my permission. I think it would look hot on you,” Catra informs her. Even while giving Adora that reinforcement she craves, she also _reminds_ Adora that she has a choice all her own. Adora lets out a shaking breath, letting her shoulders relax and fall with the motion. “That’s my girl. Tell me about it,” Catra praises softly, kissing her neck now. Adora feels the rest of her body untense along with her shoulders.

“I want to do something to make my body truly mine. Not something I have to morph the shape of to feel I own. And I want- a token, always, of you on me,” Adora tells her. Catra pauses, her tail stilling from where it was slowly swaying. She meets Adora’s eyes, a soft flush on her cheeks.

“A token of me?” she asks, quietly. A gentle prompting for Adora to continue.

“I was thinking of getting the- the line from our vows on my arm. In First Ones writing, so no one else will be able to read it. How sappy you are will stay between us and our wedding guests,” Adora tells her, rushing a little to assure Catra. Legibly etching the love Catra long considered to be her greatest weakness into her skin is not something she thinks Catra would be comfortable with. Catra flushes, her gaze falling to trace the shape of Adora’s arm now. Her tail is waving again, at least, despite her clear embarrassment.

“And what _line_ would that be, Adora?” she asks, her voice a little breathy. Adora draws in a breath, hearing the tacit permission in the statement. Catra’s smile is soft when she meets Adora’s eyes again in the mirror. She leans up, maintaining eye contact and squeezing her arms firmly around Adora’s waist as she whispers into her ear, “ _I promise to love you not just until the end of the world, but through it and beyond_.”

\--

Catra sits with her while she gets it done. It isn’t about the pain – they both know she can take and _enjoy_ it – but the design is intimate, a careful script of geometry Adora wrote out that the tattoo artist lines carefully across her bicep. The tattoo is not small, covering most of her upper arm in blue-purple ink so deep in colour it is practically black. To Catra, it is black, but she assures Adora she likes the idea of a subtle hint of colour to it.

Catra holds her free hand, occasionally pressing a kiss to her knuckles and praising her on keeping still, something she struggles with even after all this time. She is at least capable of resting now, but _unmoving_ is a bit harder. She manages it for the two hours it takes for the tattoo to be done, though. She has proper motivation between Catra’s smile and her own need for this to come out well.

A part of her feels like she is damaging a weapon she has been issued. Reprimands are sure to follow such a failure, but instead the tattoo artist leans back, wiping off her arm and declaring, “Alright, you’re looking good, girly. Let’s talk aftercare.”

Even harder than the tattoo itself is knowing She-ra is benched for the next few days, if not _weeks_. Adora has to let the tattoo heal over on its own. None of them really know what will happen when she turns into She-ra for the first time afterwards. Her scars vanish as She-ra, but they come back when she reverts. When she has become She-ra while she already had open wounds, they had closed over into fresh scars when she dropped the transformation.

There is no one who knows what will happen, so she just has to wait until it is all healed over for the best chance of her ink _staying_. She admires it in every reflective surface she passes while wearing short sleeves – something she does a lot since she started building some kind of relationship with her own body. Catra eyes the bold lines, sometimes possessive and hungry, but sometimes just fond and _soft_.

Sometimes, the tattoo is Catra’s token, her claim over Adora. Other times, it is a whispered declaration of love written in a language known only to her. Even more rarely, it is a defiance against all those who tried to mold her and use her, a challenge and declaration that she is not _theirs_. Adora may still struggle with her body, but her arm is her own.

\--

When Adora has to transform, it is three weeks later, and she does it to heal someone. A buzz in the back of her mind says _your token_ , but she pushes it aside. Someone making the journey from another _planet_ for healing is more important. It isn’t until afterwards that she dares to turn to look at Catra and sees her wife’s gaze fixed firmly on her arm, her fur fluffed up. Adora swallows and looks down.

She is still She-ra, and the tattoo is still there. Not only is it _there_ , but it is different. The words are usually inked nearly black across her skin, but as She-ra, they are golden-white, just as bold as they were when dark.

“When you, ah, when you healed…. It glowed just like your hair,” Catra tells her, still staring. She seems a bit speechless. Adora is too, blinking down at the mark on her arm. Letting out a breath, she lets She-ra slip away, falling in height but staying focused on her bicep. When she pushes up her sleeve, the tattoo is there, as bold and dark as ever.

She doesn’t know why she was worried. She-ra is _her_ , and she loves the hell out of her wife.


End file.
